


The Fastest Way

by shinysparks



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/shinysparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian cooks dinner for Guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fastest Way

Guy had always heard that the fastest way to a man's heart was through his stomach. He usually scoffed at such an obviously fallacious statement. After all, the fastest way to a man's heart was through his chest cavity, as Guy (and his curved, claw-like dagger,) had proven time and time again.

It was Marian, however, who finally explained it to him. He smiled at his beloved wife sweetly as she carried a bowlful of homemade chicken soup and a plate of bread over to him, her hair and face speckled with bits of flour. It was unusual for the lady of the house to cook; however, Marian had offered to give the servants the night off to spend with their families. There had been some ulterior motives behind it, of course. Without the servants around, husband and wife were free to chase each other around the manor sans attire, and commit certain sins on their dining table. Repeatedly. Guy was quite looking forward to that.

Dinner, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Guy stared in horror at the thick, putrid-smelling and bright green soup that had been placed in front of him. His stomach churned and tiny beads of sweat began to drip down from his brow. He was absolutely positive that chickens had not started coming in green and as such, the oddly vivid color was a bit unnerving to him. He then eyed the bread with equal trepidation. It had been burnt black and looked rock solid. He did not dare attempt to cut it. He was certain that the bread would quickly destroy any knife he wielded against it, and Guy happened to like his knives. A lot.

He looked up at her and smiled once again. He was quite appreciative of her efforts to please him with a good, home-cooked meal and it did not matter to him whether or not she was able to cook - though, it was becoming quite obvious to him that she could not. Still, he couldn't help but find her "attempt" to win over his heart with her cooking skills (or lack thereof) to be completely unnecessary. After all, she already had his heart, and his mind, his soul and every fiber of his being. Nothing would ever change that.

Guy sighed, and plunged his spoon into the thick, vivid green soup. Lifting the spoon to his lips, he quickly thrust the putrid substance into his mouth. In his rough past, Guy had been left to survive on many things of questionable edibility: apples with worms, moldy bread with maggots, slightly rotted vegetables. None of those, however, came anywhere close to his current horror. He swallowed hard, forcing the soup down into his still churning stomach. He cracked a pained smile at his wife, who was looking quite hopeful at him, and nodded his head weakly. His acceptance of her meal seemed to placate her, and for that, Guy was glad. His bottom lip quivered as he forced the spoon (which had, strangely enough, begun to corrode,) back into the fetid soup, and prepared himself for another bout of torture. He would make himself finish it all, because he loved her with all of his heart.

Twenty minutes later, Guy discovered that the fastest way to make a man run screaming toward the outdoor privy, holding his bottom the entire way, was _ALSO_ through the stomach...


End file.
